Chapter Text
Thomas Wayne grunted once again as he tried to make his way up the stairs. Bruce knew his father wouldn't cling to the banister however much he needed to. His father often hid his injuries yet absolutely berated Bruce for doing the same.
But Bruce knew the truth that his father's pain, the loss of his mother, eclipsed everything. Including Bruce.
It had taken chasing after his father on patrols in a poorly stitched costume to even get Thomas to look his way. Even after Alfred's pleadings not to follow his father's insanity, Bruce did. What other choice did he have?
Though Bruce wasn't as naïve as he once was. His father demanded more of him as Robin than as a son. Some days it felt as though his father could have picked any orphan off the street and the result would be the same. Yet Bruce continued to meet every demand as best he could. He practised for hours, trained every instinct and muscle he could, studied every crime scene he could get his hands on all for a weak pat on the shoulder and proud expression.
A knock came at the door.
Bruce hung back as he watched Alfred open the door, the sound of the midnight outside becoming much stronger. He waited behind a pillar as his heart pounded in anticipation. There was only one member of the Justice League who would dare come to the mansion at this time and be polite enough to knock. He felt his cheeks reddening at the thought Superman could hear just how hard his heart was beating at the sight of him. It made him feel like a schoolboy with a pathetic crush.
Perhaps because he was.
Instead he straightened and came closer. His father had always praised him for his ability to keep a blank face. Bruce didn't see it as a talent, rather a natural instinct at this point. He rarely smiled.
''Master Bruce.'' Alfred began as he approached, ''Superman here wishes to discuss Watchtower protocol with your father.''
Superman gave a sheepish smile and Bruce allowed himself to imagine he was here for him. Perhaps with flowers in his hand, even if Bruce wouldn't know the first thing to do with flowers. Poison Ivy ensured that Bruce had a basic knowledge of Botany but that was for business not pleasure.
''Master Wayne just went to rest.'' Alfred told him.
Superman nodded in understanding, the motion shaking rain drops away from that one stubborn curl. Bruce wondered what it would be like to wrap his finger around it and feel the cold water drip down his arm.
''I can come by some other time.''
''No.'' Bruce intercepted, drawing surprised expressions, ''I have the files downstairs. I can help you find them.''
The Justice League was in the early days of its formation. Its creation could be entirely put down to Superman and Wonderwoman's consistent efforts to convince his father to work in a team. Bruce still thought it was a miracle his father had agreed yet his surprise was tapered when Thomas inevitably insistence on funding and controlling everything.
Hence why Superman was at the door so late trying to appease his father's bureaucratic compulsions. His father didn't fail to remind the league daily that everything was on his dime. Truthfully Bruce wondered how Superman would allow himself to be brought to heel by a paranoid man in a batsuit holding the purse strings.
Superman seemed to hesitate before looking to Alfred and it stung. Bruce knew that, despite being nineteen, Superman didn't quite consider him an adult.
''Well, okay then.''
Alfred opened the door and his eyes locked with Superman as he stepped aside to let him in.
Bruce was never sure what Alfred thought of the alien. He had been very encouraging of Thomas' friendship with the Justice League, if only to save his father from his suicidal endeavour. Though lately Alfred appeared more cautious towards his presence. Bruce suspected that Alfred had become aware of Bruce's crush on the older man and felt protective, even if there was no need.
Bruce knew Superman was too righteous and good to even look at Bruce that way. No matter how much he wished for it.
The cave was not a hospitable part of the house. It always had a vague damp smell from the condensation which clung to the rocks in the ceiling. It was visible with only artificial light and the glow of a massive computer. All his father's gadgets and cars were on proud display. The Batman and Robin suits were displayed side by side, inescapably strangled together even when out of use.
Bruce hated it down here.
It didn't seem like Superman liked it much better. Bruce knew the lack of natural light unsettled him and Thomas seemed to think of it as an advantage. His father liked Superman and he trusted him more than most. But that was a particularly short measurement.
Superman stayed sat at one of the few chairs down while Bruce flickered through binders to find the right documents Thomas wanted him to sign.
''You don't have to wear the suit here.'' Bruce told him, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat, ''You can come here in civilian clothes if it's more comfortable.''
Superman's soft laughter filled the air and the sound made Bruce's fingers temporarily stall, ''The suit is comfortable for me.''
''Is it?'' Bruce let his gaze wander, ''It looks rather... restrictive.''
Superman paused at the statement and Bruce knew he was thinking of what to say. He had been including more sly comments as of late, comments which were suggestive but easily dismissed as male-bonding teasing. He was easily flustered and Bruce liked to be the one to fluster a God.
He cleared his throat as Bruce carried on, ''This material is very lightweight. Allows me to move, protects me from injury.''
Bruce's eyes narrowed at the suit in genuine curiosity, ''But it seems so flimsy. What material is it?''
Superman paused, something wistful appearing in his eyes, ''It came from Krypton. It was the blanket I was wrapped in.''
Hesitantly, Bruce put down the binder and came closer, ''Can I touch it?''
A quick nod and Bruce sat next to him. Superman tensed but Bruce wouldn't miss the opportunity to inspect the suit. He had designed his own Robin costume and the search for the right material had been such a headache. He was so curious how the Kryptonian material would feel.
He began at the shoulder and pinched the material to test it's stretch, careful not to nip his skin. Internally Bruce laughed at himself, what mortal could harm a God?
''Amazing.'' he muttered as he trailed his hands around the emblem on his muscular chest, ''It feels like silk but stretches like rubber.'' he bunched the material with a pinch, ''Multi-layered?''
Bruce continued his petting until he noticed Superman's breathing had quickened. He looked to the man's hands clenched by his sides. In guise of checking the material, Bruce trailed his hand down his arm to his wrist and felt the pulse.
Quickened breathing and pulse, he noted internally. Clenched hands.
He looked up.
Avoidant eye-contact.
Had he angered Superman? He knew his father tended to search for weaknesses in the JL members, perhaps Superman thought he would report his findings to Thomas.
Bruce felt disappointed. It had taken a long time for Superman to separate him from his father and see him as himself. Superman even trusted Bruce to occasionally be the one to talk sense into his father or share details of their cases together. He had even battled alongside the Justice League twice now!
Petulantly he wanted to yell at Superman and demand what else he had to do for his respect when Superman stared back at him. Only this time he noticed it. A clear pupil dilation when their eyes met.
Bruce didn't dare hope but all of the signs pointed to it.
His breathing, his pulse, pupil dilation. Bruce listed.
Signs of arousal and attraction.
Bruce stilled. Alfred was upstairs and his father was asleep. There was no one else who would come to interrupt them and they were all alone. This was an opportunity, the perfect and possibly only opportunity Bruce had and he needed to take it but he had to calculate it just right.
He took the wrist in his hand and brought it to his lips.
Superman was a God but he was a merciful one. He practised mercy and kindness. There was a tenderness in him that Bruce wanted for himself and he kept those kisses light and appeasing.
''Bruce.'' Superman exhaled, drawing his hand away.
In a panic, Bruce planted himself into his lap. He wrapped his thighs around Superman's legs and squeezed. Those legs trained to kick, climb, run and jump across buildings now employed a virginal clumsy sensuality. His hands trained to punch, snatch, grab and scratch sunk into Superman's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
His lips hit against Superman's with force. All Bruce had ever known was tenacity and violence and it showed. Bruce had fought for everything he had ever wanted and knew no other way to be. It was earnest and intense and just pathetic enough that Bruce wasn't surprised when Superman pulled back from him.
''Bruce...'' Superman licked his lip as he thought deeply and Bruce was so caught in those pink lips, he barely registered the hesitation, ''We can't do this.''
''Why not?'' He demanded, matching the aggression with a targeted grind against Superman's crotch.
His lips twitched with victory as he felt Superman's cock harden beneath him.
''You're so young.''
Bruce scowled, ''I'm nineteen. It wouldn't be illegal.''
He instantly knew that wasn't quite the right thing to say as Superman winced, ''That isn't the point. You're not ready for this. You're just a ki-''
''-Do not call me a child!'' Bruce yelled back, the corners of his vision shaking with anger, ''I go out every day and risk my life to protect people just like you do. I have been beaten, drowned, stabbed and tortured and you think I'm still a child?''
Bruce felt Superman's arms envelop him as he began to shake.
''Bruce-''
''- When have I ever been a child?'' he asked him, disturbed by how tired his own voice sounded, ''When was I ever allowed to be a child, Superman?''
Bruce pulled back to look in those warm eyes for an answer. Superman didn't seem to have one to give but it didn't feel like a victory for Bruce.
''You can't ask me to save the world then deny me this.'' Bruce told him, ''It isn't fair.''
Superman swallowed uncomfortably, ''I was never the one who asked you to do that.''
''Then be the one to give me a choice.'' Bruce ran his fingers through his hair, just in case this was the only chance he got, ''Let me choose this. I want you.''
His gaze softened like he was rehearsing a rejection and Bruce interjected, ''If you aren't attracted to me, you can leave. I'll leave you alone, I swear.'' his voice thinned with its need and he brought their foreheads together, ''Please. Just give me this, I need it. I need you.''
When Superman stayed silent, Bruce tentatively tried to kiss him again. This time it was gentle and Bruce moaned when he felt Superman's strong hand cup his jaw. This hand had ripped apart steel and concrete yet all Bruce could feel was tenderness. Bruce felt how soft Superman's lips were against his His own lips were often chapped and broken from the cold nights and relentless violence of their lives yet a God was kissing them like he was worthy.
Eventually Superman drew his lips away and Bruce had to force himself to not chase after them.
''I want this.'' Bruce whispered, ''I know you do too. Superman.''
Superman sighed, ''Clark.''
Bruce blinked, ''What?''
''My name is Clark.''
Bruce couldn't help the radiant smile the name drew.
A name his own father and countless others had been searching for and Clark had gifted it to him. This was his. This name, this trust belonged to Bruce only and no one could take this away from him.
''Clark.'' he breathed out in reverence, ''Clark. Clark. Clark.''
Clark smiled softly and Bruce felt gut-punched, ''That's my name.''